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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25033747">Breaking And Entering Can Be Angelic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalgeometry/pseuds/fractalgeometry'>fractalgeometry</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Footnotes, Hugs, Other, SnakeyWakey, Tea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:41:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,399</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25033747</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalgeometry/pseuds/fractalgeometry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale heard a racket of geese and car horns honking. This wasn’t unusual — geese could be very unpleasant — except that it was coming from Crowley’s room.</p><p>It was July.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Awake The Snake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I found out yesterday about the Awake The Snake thing, and suddenly got my own idea for it. I think this is the fastest turnaround I've ever done on a fic, though it is still betaed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For some reason, Aziraphale hadn’t expected Crowley to actually sleep until July. He had no good basis for this expectation; the demon had proven himself perfectly capable of sleeping for much longer than two months, and a plague — or </span>
  <em>
    <span>pandemic,</span>
  </em>
  <span> as the humans were calling it this time — was exactly the kind of time he would do so. This fact, however, eluded Aziraphale for exactly five days and eight hours after he hung up the phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five days, seven hours, and forty-three minutes after he hung up the phone, he realized that he hadn’t heard from Crowley in several days. This was entirely normal, if one assumed that they were in nearly any part of history. It was entirely not normal only if they were in the most recent year or so. Which they were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five days, eight hours, and one minute after he initially hung up the phone, Aziraphale hung it up again, slowly, realizing that Crowley had probably meant it when he said he was taking a nap, and also realizing that he was less than happy about this fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, two months in the grand scheme of time was nearly nothing. It would be over before he could even get through half the reading he wanted to do, not to mention all the lovely pastry recipes he had found. Perhaps the </span>
  <em>
    <span>pandemic</span>
  </em>
  <span> would even end by then!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span><a id="return1" name="return1"></a>By early June, Aziraphale had had enough. In years gone by he would have been more than happy to have months alone in his bookshop, with no interruptions or requests, but for some reason it was bothering him this time. Crowley hadn’t been in contact in over a month, which should have been fine. Things, Aziraphale was finding, were not always as they should be, these days. Crowley’s lack of contact was disconcerting. Even, Aziraphale had admitted to himself<sup><a href="#note1">[1]</a></sup>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>worrying.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Which was, of course, preposterous. Crowley had said he was going to sleep. There was no reason to think his silence was due to anything but sleeping. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>People are awfully vulnerable when they sleep,</span>
  </em>
  <span> his subconscious reminded him rudely. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How many people have been attacked in their sleep? Hmm?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, shut up,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Aziraphale thought crossly. He and Crowley weren’t humans. They were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The recommendations for proper COVID-19 precautions had been evolving at a staggering pace. Aziraphale had mostly ignored them, since he had no need to go outside anyway. Thinking about it now, though, he vaguely remembered something about masks, and avoiding people, and ways in which it was all right to go out, if one needed to. There was no reason </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> couldn’t wear a mask, and stay away from others, and all that. Only to set a good example, of course, because he couldn’t actually get sick. Still, it was definitely possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three hours later, Aziraphale, a large bag of carefully stacked books, and an equally large bag of cakes and pies arrived outside a door in Mayfair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale had knocked several times. It wouldn’t do to be impolite. Still, when there was no answer he found it quite easy to justify encouraging the door to open and let him in, which it did with nearly no fuss at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale had been to Crowley’s flat several times since the Apocalypse didn’t happen. They still spent most of their time at the bookshop, or the park, or odd little restaurants, but on occasion they ended up here. It wasn’t quite to his taste, too open and minimal and dark, but it felt like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crowley,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and right now Aziraphale was willing to put up with quite a lot to keep that feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put his things down and wandered further into the flat, coming — not entirely accidentally — to the bedroom door. It was slightly ajar, so Aziraphale couldn’t help seeing a figure lying in the bed, slightly sprawled, with familiar bright red hair. Just sleeping, then. Safe. That was all right, then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale went back to the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span><a id="return2" name="return2"></a>Aziraphale hadn’t entirely meant to stay at Crowley’s flat until July, but one book led to another, and then he ran out of cake and was so intrigued by some of the kitchen gadgets that he just had to try making new ones there, and there was something so very settling about knowing exactly where Crowley was at every moment — safe and sleeping in the next room — that the weeks went by before he knew it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One day he was sitting in a chair<a href="#note2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> reading when he heard a racket of geese and car horns honking. This wasn’t unusual — geese could be very unpleasant — except that it was coming from Crowley’s room. Aziraphale, perforce, put his book hurriedly on the table and headed in that direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The noise stopped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><a id="return3" name="return3"></a>Aziraphale checked the calendar, which hadn’t been there a moment before and was quite surprised to find itself suddenly in existence. It was the first of July.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. It must have been the “alarm clock”. He had heard that they had strange noises these days. Crowley must be waking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He headed for the kitchen to start the kettle. Crowley could probably do with some tea after two months of sleep.<a href="#note3"><sup>[3]</sup></a>
</span></p><p>
  <span><a id="return4" name="return4"></a> Several minutes later, the sound came again, the cacophony of various honks that should be able to wake the dead, let alone a stubborn demon. Aziraphale went back out into the hallway, but the noise stopped even faster. He heard a soft thump from the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realizing that Crowley might be understandably worried if he heard or sensed someone in his ostensibly empty apartment, Aziraphale called, “Crowley, good morning!<a href="#note4"><sup>[4]</sup></a> It’s just me. Would you like some tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were several beats of silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What,” Crowley’s voice said, “the fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something wrong, dear?” Aziraphale asked, moving closer to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another thump. “No! No. Just- Aziraphale, are you in my </span>
  <em>
    <span>flat?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Aziraphale said, a little self-consciously. “I’m sorry, I can go home, I was just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened and Crowley, sans sunglasses and wearing a set of black pajamas, was suddenly right in front of him. “I didn’t say </span>
  <em>
    <span>that,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he said, blinking in the comparative light of the hallway. “I just asked if you were in my flat, which you clearly are. What the fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be rude about it,” Aziraphale said, slightly nettled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘M not being rude,” Crowley mumbled. “I’m just surprised, s’all. Why don’t you go...get your tea or whatever, and I’ll come along so you can tell me how you ended up in my flat while I was asleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s quite simple, really,” Aziraphale said, beginning to walk down the hall. “I wanted to check on you, because you had been out of contact for quite a number of weeks-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said I was going to sleep until July,” Crowley pointed out, leaning against the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I know,” Aziraphale said, beginning to measure tea into a pot. “I just…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say to justify his presence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I was worried about you anyway</span>
  </em>
  <span> would probably be met with a scoff, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I was lonely</span>
  </em>
  <span> or </span>
  <em>
    <span>I missed you</span>
  </em>
  <span> a very understandable pointing-out of Aziraphale’s hermit tendencies. “...didn’t want to be alone,” he finished lamely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you came and hung out here while I was asleep?” Crowley sounded mildly perplexed, but not mocking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eventually. Somewhere around the beginning of June, I believe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been here a </span>
  <em>
    <span>month?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Crowley said incredulously as Aziraphale handed him a mug. He sniffed it. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve put your own kinds of tea in my kitchen, should I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you quite mind?” Aziraphale asked. “I should have asked, but you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>asleep,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I wasn’t going to wake you, and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Crowley said, cutting him off. “I guess I don’t really mind. Haven’t chased you off yet.” He took a gulp of tea. “‘M just confused. What made you feel like being </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span> was better than being in your bookshop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale sipped his own tea, stalling while he thought of an answer. Finally he said, “Well, what do you have here that the bookshop doesn’t, do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elbow room?” suggested Crowley, and oh, Aziraphale had </span>
  <em>
    <span>missed</span>
  </em>
  <span> the demon’s sass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave Crowley a withering look. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you foolish demon. You were asleep over here, and it was quite-” he paused, unsure of what it was “quite”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on,” Crowley said, and he wasn’t sassing anymore. He was looking at Aziraphale intently, and Aziraphale swore he saw a hint of vulnerability in that look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was quite lonely, I suppose, having you all the way across town, not answering your phone for who knows how long, and having a whole new plague on the loose and all. I just...wanted to be nearby, I think, and know that you were safe and I was safe the whole time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came to stay in a demon’s flat because you felt safe there,” Crowley said, and he sounded amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know quite well that you’re not merely a ‘demon’, my dear, either to me or in general,” Aziraphale said severely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Crowley said, and he sounded serious again. “Sorry about sleeping for months. It wasn’t really fair to you, after the year we’ve had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell you to stay home,” Aziraphale pointed out. “You had to pass the time somehow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley acknowledged this with a tip of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did miss you,” Aziraphale said into his teacup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley looked at him for a long moment. “Missed you too,” he said eventually. “”S part of why I went to sleep. Didn’t feel like hanging around on my own anymore.” He quirked the corner of his mouth. “Kind of nice to have you here when I woke up, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it obvious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale considered this. Thinking through the events since that awful alarm tone had gone off, right up until now, with Crowley lounging against the counter with a cup of tea Aziraphale had given him, it was a little obvious. Crowley didn’t put up with anything he didn’t want most of the time, let alone in his own home. The fact that he had taken Aziraphale’s presence in such stride was, he had to admit, quite telling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose, when I think about it,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley groaned. “Angel, I literally just took a two-month nap because I wasn’t going to see you because of the stupid quarantine. Also because plagues-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pandemics,” Aziraphale corrected absently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re calling them pandemics now. Do go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Yeah. Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pandemics</span>
  </em>
  <span> are depressing as all get out, and better ignored when possible. But mostly the first thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Aziraphale said. He moved to stand against the counter next to Crowley. After a moment he draped his arm across the demon’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley stiffened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you,” Aziraphale said, as though this explained everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley relaxed a little. After another minute he shifted his cup to his other hand so he could curl his arm around Aziraphale’s lower back, pulling him closer. Aziraphale went agreeably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Missed you too,” Crowley murmured, as though he hadn’t already said that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you...perhaps not sleep for months across town from me again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You say ‘across town’ like it’s an ocean,” Crowley teased, but he hadn’t moved away from Aziraphale. “Yeah,” he said more seriously. “As long as you don’t keep me away, I think I can manage that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sorry about that,” Aziraphale said. “It didn’t seem like such a big deal, until I started getting lonely. It happened frighteningly fast, I must admit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley hummed. “Guess it just happened to me first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only by a few days, my dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood there for a while, as Crowley finished waking up. Finally Aziraphale said, “Might you be interested in returning to the bookshop with me? I would like to check in on it, but you’re perfectly welcome to accompany me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t there quarantines and stuff?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes. No. It’s very complicated. The humans have decided that it’s more all right to go out if one wears a mask. They have all these designs now; it’s ever so exciting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><a id="return5" name="return5"></a>“Oh, yeah, mask and sunglasses, great way to not get taken for a criminal,” Crowley snarked, thumping his empty mug onto the counter. </span></p><p>
  <span>“You’re a demon, you always look suspicious,” Aziraphale said lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley rolled his eyes and</span><a href="#note5"><sup>[5]</sup></a> withdrew his arm from around Aziraphale. “I’m not going to the bookshop in my pajamas. Give me fifteen minutes.”
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh dear, that’s an awfully long time,” Aziraphale fretted. “I would so like to check in on the bookshop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley turned a flat, unimpressed look on him. Aziraphale let his eyes twinkle with mischief until Crowley’s mouth twitched and he turned away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re incorrigible, angel,” he said under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Aziraphale said primly. “I’ll just go pack up my books, then, while you take your fifteen minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley gave a lazy salute and wandered toward his room. Aziraphale began to stack books into his bag, smiling a little.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a><sup>[1]</sup> Once, at three in the morning when he was feeling exceptionally out of sorts. <sup><a href="#return1">[return to text]</a></sup></p><p><a id="note2" name="note2"></a><sup>[2]</sup> One that he had miracled to be actually comfortable to sit in some weeks ago.<sup><a href="#return2">[return to text]</a></sup></p><p><a id="note3" name="note3"></a><sup>[3]</sup> This assumption had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that <i>Aziraphale</i> wanted some tea, of course. <sup><a href="#return3">[return to text]</a></sup></p><p><a id="note4" name="note4"></a><sup>[4]</sup> It was four in the afternoon. <sup><a href="#return4">[return to text]</a></sup></p><p><a id="note5" name="note5"></a><sup>[5]</sup> Reluctantly. <sup><a href="#return5">[return to text]</a></sup></p><p>Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoyed this at least close to as much as I did. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Extra Door Bit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The door to Crowley’s apartment let Aziraphale in with less fuss than Crowley thinks is a good idea. Time to instill some fear of Crowley in it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanted to put this in the main story, but it naturally ended before they got to the door. Upon mentioning the idea to my beta, they petitioned me to write it anyway, so here’s a mini coda involving Crowley and his door.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley opened the front door, waving Aziraphale through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some protection you are,” he murmured as he followed the angel out. “Letting in whatever ethereal creatures come your way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door clicked, not sounding at all regretful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care if he was polite to you,” Crowley continued, still too quiet for Aziraphale to hear. “I seem to remember leaving you </span>
  <em>
    <span>locked.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He instilled in his voice the kind of malice that made even the bravest of plants rustle nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door merely creaked a little, sounding smug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley scowled at it. “You’re not as smart as you think you are. You just got lucky. No more opening while I’m asleep, got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door managed to make it very clear that it would take this recommendation under advisement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crowley, are you coming?” Aziraphale asked from down the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Crowley said distractedly. He addressed the door again. “I guarantee you that he would be just as upset as me if something untoward got into my apartment. Don’t you start getting complacent just because it worked out this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door creaked again, a bit miffed that its judgment was being doubted so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley gave it one last death glare and sauntered off down the hall. His best friend was waiting, after all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The amazing <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousDandelion">AnonymousDandelion</a> has now written an entire story about Crowley's door! Find it <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25109890/chapters/60832927">here</a>.</p>
        </blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25109890">Crowley's Door</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousDandelion/pseuds/AnonymousDandelion">AnonymousDandelion</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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